


Charles's Vacation

by CarrieMaxwell



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic), Webtoon - Fandom, let's play by Mongie
Genre: Airplane, Collapsing from exhaustion, Content, F/M, Fire, Flying, Going away party, Jet Lag, Leaving, Long flight, Phone Calls, Supportive Siblings, The UK, Vacation, Verbal teasing, Visiting Family, Visiting home, Wales, alarm, alone with my thoughts, cardiff airport, cuddling on the couch, departure, everything reminds me of her, exhausted, falling at her feet, joking, llandudno, overhearing danger, packing bags, rushing to the airport, smoke, sprinklers, supportive family, thinking of her, wrapped in a blanket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieMaxwell/pseuds/CarrieMaxwell
Summary: Charles has taken a week long vacation to fly back to Wales and visit his family, leaving Sam in charge of things at the office. She manages to throw him a small 'going away party' at work and he can't seem to stop his thoughts from circling back to her on his long flight.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 152





	1. Departure

In the past year of him working at Young Technology Charles had not taken any vacation time. It had been his plan to accumulate enough days to be able to fly back to Wales and visit his family for a good week. Now that he had taken on Sam as his assistant, he could leave things in her hands to be dealt with in his absence.

It was short notice on her part, since she had only been in the new position for two weeks, but his plans had been set in motion months ago when he bought the tickets. He watched her face as he informed her of his upcoming travels, enjoying her wide eye surprise and fumbling, proclaiming that she wasn’t prepared for this much responsibility.

“Easy Bunty.” He had reassured her. “Think of it as riding your bike on your own for the first time, you’ve already got the legwork behind you, you just won’t have me standing over your shoulder.”

“But Charles, what if I need to call you for something?” she pleaded with big puppy eyes. “You’ll be seven hours ahead!”

He nodded, impressed that she had done the math or had even just googled it to be sure. “If you like, we can set a time for you to call me that works out for the both of us.” He had placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her nerves.

“It’s your vacation time….seeing your family…I couldn’t intrude.”

“Nonsense.” And that was that. He had decided that he would make the first call after he recovered from the jet lag and settled back into UK time. 

Now here he was, sitting in first class, one leg slung over the other and gazing absentmindedly through the little oval window. He still had his ‘work’ look about him: hair slicked back, pressed suit, polished dress shoes. A leather briefcase sitting beside him, his luggage in the cargo holds. He had only arrived at the office that morning to go over his checklist with Sam before his departure, to make sure things were well in order and had been mildly surprised with the whole staff throwing a tiny farewell party.

Although he was certain there were some that would’ve preferred it to be a permanent farewell.

He had been handed a cupcake, a card, and was temporarily surrounded by everyone either wishing him a safe flight or requesting pictures of his homeland. His eyes scanned over their heads to see his little assistant standing off from the main hub, arms crossed over herself in her usual reassuring gesture. She smiled when he caught her eye, a tell that she had been the one that had set this motion.

When he had finally pulled himself away from the crowd and came her way, he realized he didn’t have much time left. Shame, he thought, I would’ve loved to see more of her interactions in this setting. He’d found all her little quirks endearing, almost fascinating, even though he was trying to help her overcome them.

There’d be a day when Samara Young no longer slouched and shrugged away from crowds and contact, but today was not that day.

Cupcake in hand, watch gleaming and nagging him of his schedule, he only had time to thank her before her name was called from the crowd. She was walking away when she had shared one final glance, and that glance was still on his mind even now, thousands of miles above the clouds and away from the city. He had eaten the delicious gift, despite his regime of non-sugary foods so early. He had no idea who made it, but it had been done with enough skill that he’d like to thank the chef.

Now his chin rested in his palm, fingers draped over his mouth in thoughtful contemplation, recalling their dinner together over a plate of fish and chips. He had lost himself in the atmosphere of the conversation, letting down his guard so much as to bring up one of his favorite haunts from his old stomping grounds. He realized it halfway and stopped, feeling foolish despite her curiosity. It was just better to get back to discussing Ruminate as was the original plan.

He had spent the rest of the evening thinking of her as he lay in bed; an overwhelming feeling growing that had him shaken. He couldn’t afford such thoughts, not about her, not like that. The following morning had been more of a bombshell for him that was unexpected. He never thought that his simple teasing remark would open a Pandora’s Box and all her feelings would come rushing out, only for her to firmly shut the lid and request he forget about it and never bring it up again. He’d spent that afternoon much like he was feeling now; even being so far away…it wasn’t enough.

This was going to be a long flight.

…………………..

Hours later, the plane touched down in Cardiff Airport, clear across the country from Llandudno, a whopping 131 miles, 186.7 by road distance. It would be some time before he would arrive home, even if he drove the whole four hour trip nonstop. He had not booked another flight from Cardiff in case his flight from LA was delayed. Sure, it’d only take a lovely little forty five minutes, but he’d just been in the same seat for the past seven hours, give or take the extra time that booking and departing allotted and he wanted nothing more to do with flying if he could help it.

If he took a rental car and left now, it would still be a late arrival, so to rest his flight weary bones and reacclimatize to the Welsh air and time, he booked himself into a cheap little inn for the night. Once settled into his room he stretched and slung his luggage into the chair in the corner of the room. He pulled out his phone and pressed his mother’s number.

“Greetings from Cardiff.” He announced when she picked up.

“Charles, my dear, you’re really there?” she cried happily.

“Yes mother, but I’m staying the night. The flight really took a toll on me. It’s best if I’m fresh and rested in order to take a car up the way. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know when I leave.”

“Please do.” She replied in that motherly tone that clearly said ‘You Better’ before exchanging brief pleasantries and then disconnecting. After the call, he unbuttoned his vest and the shirt underneath, slung them onto the bed and unzipped his travelling bag to pull out a more comfortable top. He could’ve arrived at the office in his casual attire, after all, he’d only be there a moment, but the thought of his underlings seeing him in his comfortable, slightly disheveled style was not yet something he was willing to expose himself to. None but Sam had ever seen him with so much as a hair out of place and he intended to keep it that way. Subconsciously, he must’ve been thinking of her when he packed his bag, for he found himself snug inside his taupe colored V-neck shirt that he’d worn to their dinner.

Again? He thought. Just how long is she going to be on my mind tonight? 

Shaking away the mental images, he’d gotten himself settled and marched down to the pub for a proper English meal.

But once alone in his little room for the night, his thoughts strayed again. He looked at his watch, noticing the time and subtracting the seven hour time difference, realized that a certain little someone still had an hour left of work.

‘Oh why not?’ he thought, pressing her number. 

On the second ring, he heard her fumble and a clatter as the device must’ve hit either her desk or the floor.

“Charles?!?” she gasped. “Are you ok?”

He chuckled. She had no idea how adorable she was. “I’m perfectly fine Bunty; I’m actually resting at an inn for the evening.”

“But why are you calling me?” she asked, taking a heavy breath.

“You look worried when I left.” He explained. “I wanted to assure you that I arrived safely. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

She mmm-hmmed a response and was about to sit when he said: “And you didn’t get to do your self-love routine this morning.”

“WHAT?” she halted in mid-air, her bottom hovering above her seat.

“You heard me.” He seductively chuckled, delighting in her shock. As if he was going to let up just because it was his vacation. “Come now Miss Young, assume the power stance and tell me what you love about yourself today.”

“This is by far more awkward than the last time we did this over the phone, you’re in bed resting after all!” she protested, already getting into the power stance. 

“Bed or not, you’re still at work though.” He countered. “And I am waiting for what you have to say.”

He heard an audible groan and it carry on as she racked her brain for a thought. He had completely blindsided her with this, so there was no chance of her looking into her little red notebook for assistance.

“Today, I love that fact that I was able to throw a last minute farewell party for you.” She answered.

There was a moment of silence.

He had not expected that, although it warmed his heart to hear it.

“Charles?” she asked, her voice raised an octave in a little panic.

“That was a nice party.” He confessed. “I never got to thank you. Or whoever made the cupcakes.”

“Oh that was Jacob’s mom.”

“I see.” Ah, the well experienced hands of a mom, of course. In his musings, he realized she was speaking but hadn’t heard a thing.

“I’m sorry my dear, you’re going to have to repeat that.”

“Oh, I-I asked how was your flight? Is the weather good?” she repeated wearily.

“Without a problem and the weather is-" he got up and snuck a peak out of his window. “Actually not bad. Then again, I’m the other side of the country so it could be raining at my house.”

“The other side?” she parroted, confused.

“If you’re curious, you can always Google a map. Right now I’m at the bottom of the country, think of it like I’m in Southern California and need to trek up to the Northern half to complete my journey.”

The analogy made sense to her, being a Californian.

“I’m going to call you each day to do your routine, but you’ll never know exactly when, so keep your phone at hand Miss Young.” He teased, just imagining the cold sweat running down her back and deer-lost-in-the-headlight look on her face. 

“Oh come on!” she exclaimed to his delight. It really was all too easy to tease her.

“Now come on, did you really think I was going to let this slide for a week?” he purred, shifting himself against the pillows, one arm resting behind his head. He found he had been growing more comfortable with conversing with her over the phone. At least over the phone, he could keep his hands to himself with no problem. There’d been so many little brushes, gentle caresses, and reassuring hand holding that he’d lost count. 

“You do know what a vacation is, right?” She laughingly asked, “It means that you take time off from work too.”

Ah touché.

“Normally I would take that advice, but you’ve only just come under my tutelage and it would be lax of me to halt these sessions, seeing as you’re making wonderful progress.” He countered. “Just how many more entries have you added in your journal?” he joked, hearing her take a breath. 

“D-do I really have to answer that?” She asked, biting her lip. He could hear the quiver in her voice. 

“You better not be biting your lip again.” Was all he answered with.

There was a moment of silence.

“Charles, I should go.” She said suddenly. It was a mood killing tone.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, noting the change.

“I’ll be there in a moment!” she called to a distant voice. Then she returned to him. “It’s almost time to clock out, and I need to finish things up before I go.”  
“Ah.” He replied with a nod. A flick of his wrist revealed his watch face, and noted more time had passed than he realized. It was far too easy to get lost talking with her.  
“Very well then, Miss Young, have a good evening.” He reluctantly said. “And stay safe.”

“Thank you Charles. Good night.”

When he disconnected, his room was audibly quiet. He sighed and leaned his head back. Halfway across the world, just a day away from her and he still couldn’t have stopped himself from calling, to hear her voice, to get that warmth in his chest he felt by being in her company. What had come over him lately? This schoolboy behavior had ended long ago. Being back in his homeland did nothing to quell how he felt. This weight pulled down the excitement he held in reserve for seeing his family and home again. It somehow felt empty, as if he should have someone by his side to enjoy this with.

But there had been no one, not since Gwen.

Clear on the other side of the country and it unnerved him to think he could run into her here. What he do if he saw her? Probably run into the first doorway of the nearest building and hide like a coward. What if she was with….him? He rubbed a hand over his face as if it could erase these uneasy thoughts. 

God damn it, just let me have a simple home visit. He prayed before succumbing to sleep.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles finally arrives to his childhood home, greeted by his mother and three sisters and is enveloped in nostalgia. Yet a part of him can't wait to get on the phone with Sam...

Thank goodness he had put in for a wake-up call at the desk, had the firm knocking upon his door not rattled him free from his slumber, he might’ve overslept and set back his entire day. He was so tired he hadn’t even pulled back the blanket and nestled in, he had simply fallen asleep atop the bed, completely made.

His ungelled hair was a shaggy blond mop that fell over his left eye as he stirred and stretched. He popped his neck and finally put his feet to the floor, realizing he had slept with his shoes on. He really must’ve been tired. His room has barely touched when he left, carrying in his travel luggage and his briefcase down to the front desk. The rental car he ordered while he had dinner had pulled up to the door and was presented.

He put his bags in the backseat, pulled out the charger cord and plugged his phone in to charge during the trek to the north. It had already been on a low battery by the time his conversation with Sam ended and was nearly depleted when he awoke. The phone call to his mother would have to wait until the first pit stop. From the glove compartment he retrieved a map and with his finger, traced the road from Cardiff and finding Brecon a good place to make the first stop and get a meal.

There was nothing but beautiful landscape and the radio to accompany him for the next hour of driving. It was almost magical, seeing these hills and valleys instead of the tall city skyscrapers that had surrounded him of late. How strange that he had been a lad from a small town, a small country, who travelled across the sea to one of the largest countries, in one of its largest cities, and fit in so well that if not for his accent, he’d be considered a local. Now coming back home….well, it wasn’t exactly home anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t get much further away than living on the west coast of the USA. The company was good though, he fit into the gears of the well-oiled machine like he had been born into the role, much to the ire of Samuel Young.

Shit! There I go again, my head finding another way to loop back to work. He chided himself when he pulled up into Brecon. I have got to find a way to clear my head.  
He unplugged his cellphone and brought it to his ear, hearing the trill of the other line until his mother picked up. “Honey, I expected you to call sooner!” she exclaimed, sounding somewhat out of breath. 

“I would have but the phone needing charging.” He replied. “I’m in Brecon now and stretching my legs. Have you been running?”

“Oh just a little lap around the grounds, you know I do what I can.” His mother would give some of these work-out obsessed Instagram vloggers a run for their money. “Your sisters are looking forward to seeing you.”

He stifled a groan. Course he was here to see family, and it was expected, but still…all three of them at once could be overwhelming. “As do I.” he tried to sound convincing, shuffling loose gravel with his shoe. “I need to go now.”

The sky was damp with the mist of a light rain approaching, and Charles tilted his head back to welcome it. Long had it been, this familiar baptism. “Welcome home.” He mused to himself.

The hours soon passed, as did clouds and mountains and roads and towns. He had re-acclimated to driving on the “proper” side of the road fairly easy, far easier than it had been when he first attempted it back in the states. Familiarity came back to him, childhood sights and memories of youth tied to the buildings and streets and landscape. It was a beautiful little seaside town.

Llandudno was a town untouched by the modern style. It had its own charm. The spray of the sea air was as familiar and inviting as a warm kitchen. All at once he felt transported back to his youth, a young man with a brand new driver’s license swerving through these streets with devilish delight. He chuckled, remembering taking out the mailbox right there on the corner. At last, the childhood home came into view.

His mother was out in the garden, on her knees and yanking out weeds, a new litter of Corgis running in the grass. He pulled into the drive and sat a moment, this sight so familiar. The only thing that time had changed, was the woman herself, with silver strained hair instead of her natural blonde. She sat herself up at the sight of the unfamiliar car, smiling wide and happily at her only son as he opened the door and stepped out.

She slowly braced herself on her knees and then to her feet, brushing off the dirt with gloved hands. “Certainly took your time getting here.”

He smirked, knowing it was his mother’s way of saying how she had missed him. He enveloped her into a hug, his height towering hers as it had been since he was fifteen. The front door swung open and three women bounded out and down the steps, blonde hair waving as they all pushed each other and bum rushed their brother. The force of three women was enough to shove him back against the car as six arms wrapped around him and squeezed. Hard to tell who was who in the flurry. His glasses nearly knocked off his face, he tried up righting himself but found it quite impossible until their mother finally ordered for them to release him and let him breathe. 

“Oh Charlie it’s been too long!”

“Hey little bro, have you grown more?”

“Ohmygawd, howlongare youstaying?”

Each of his sisters, each with their own particular pattern of speech and speed at which they spoke, began peppering him with questions. But this was nothing new, not when they were all together. His sisters always took the helm and surrounded him, whether it be when they would try to get him to play dress up or now, and curious about his life abroad since he had left.  
Home sweet home.

…………………..

Hours after finally getting away from the hustle and bustle of being reacquainted with home, he found himself in the bedroom of his youth and lay across his bed. His sisters always wore him out, and if not for their mother keeping them in line, they’d still be attacking him. The lively bunch. Enough to smother any man. He’d managed to convince them all to let him have a little rest after his long drive and reveled in the silence his bedroom provided. 

Flopping face first into his bed, he marveled at how he had come from such humble beginnings. This bedroom alone could fit into the one he had in California. He made a decent living there, decent enough to blend in and mingle. Here that wage would get him a castle of his liking. And what kid growing up here hadn’t dreamed of that?

Seeing as it was now late afternoon, he had a call to make. He wondered what his little Bunty was up to today. His phone only held one picture of her, one he had taken only days ago when he caught her nearly dozing at her desk. He was about to knock when he saw her head rested in one palm, eyes set in a serene repose, so he quietly pulled out his phone and took a picture with no flash. The he knocked loudly as if he had seen nothing and stepped in to ask her something. The memory brought a smile to his lips as he brought the phone to his ear.

“Morning Bunty.” He greeted when she answered.

“Charles, did you get to your home safely?”

He loved hearing the concern in her voice. If he so much as said he sprained an ankle she’d be on the verge of tears and fluttering about how to care for it. “It was quite the pleasant drive and warm welcoming.” He answered, “I only now just got away from it all and have some privacy.”

“Only now? You shouldn’t have called so soon!” she proclaimed. “Get some rest first.” 

“I am resting now.” He answered. “So tell me something about yourself today.” 

“Hold on.” She said, and heard stepping and the breathing that paired with it. He heard a door click close. “I’d rather not do this where everyone can hear.”

“Oh? Are you embarrassed?” he teased, brushing some hair aside.

“Of course I am Charles.” She snapped, “I always am every time we do this.”

“And we will continue to do so until it no longer embarrasses you. Until you can look me in the eye and make me believe it.”

She grunted. Pouted? Either way, he was sure she was making an adorable face. He wished he could see it. 

“Fine Charles…” she sighed. He could’ve sworn he heard her whisper ‘so bossy’ before taking the power stance and saying she loved that she loved her creativity and puzzle solving skills.

“You know,” he purred, “I’d love to see some of those skills in action someday soon.” He thought back to their lunch on a rainy afternoon, when she had asked about him. He relished the thought of her being curious about him and figured of all the people at Young Technology, he could divulge a little bit of himself to her. He shared his secret of Escape Rooms and watched her face light up.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d really be any help seeing as you have more experience with them.”

“Nonsense Miss Young, you do it all the time when you pick up random items in your quest games.”

She took a moment to ponder that. “Well I guess if you put it that way…” she let out a little laugh. “But anyway, it’s your vacation; go spend time with your family.”

“If you knew how smothering my sisters could be, you’d understand why I’m taking refuge.” But unwilling as he was to end the conversation, he knew he was taking up precious working time and had no other reason to keep her on the phone. “Goodbye Samara, I will call again tomorrow.”

…………………………


	3. Fire & Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday and Charles makes one last call to Sam to continue doing her self-love exercise. He overhears the chaos caused by a fire in the break room, the alarm blaring, the sprinklers going off and loses the connection. The next 24 hours of his life are the longest and most stressful as he fights his way back to California, all while finally coming to realize just what she means to him. But is he too late?

The following three days had kept him busy. Three sisters; one older, one younger, and one his fraternal twin. Charles was always their favorite target; whether it was for teasing, questioning, or gossip. They wanted to know everything about his life since leaving. All day, he’d been peppered with questions from his work life to…..his social life. He’d manage to skirt around the inquiry with nonchalance and talent for twisting the subject back onto them. His older sister proudly sported an engagement ring, much to his unease.

She tried reassuring him, that who she was with was going to be faithful and loving, but Charles could only dryly swallow and mutter a bitter congratulations. “You know,” she snapped, “Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t such a drama queen about like you.” 

He jolted upright. “How dare you.” He sneered.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “It was the only way to get you to snap out of it. I know how bad she hurt you but that doesn’t mean you can’t believe that anyone who gets married is going to end up miserable.”

“I know that.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “And I’m not saying yours is doomed…I’m just uncomfortable with the idea of making promises that you can’t keep-and doing that in front of every family member and friend you have.”

She shook her head. “You need to let go of her and find someone new. It’s the only way you’re ever going to be remotely happy.” She turned on her heel and left the room, leaving him with that bitter feeling in his mouth. He sighed; uncrossed his arms and glanced out the window. He’d been gone a whole week, and had the weekend ahead of him before life returned to schedule on Monday. He’d be back to his routine of managing Young Technology and his fencing lessons and his occasional rendezvous….

He threw his head back and sighed. He knew his big sister had a point, still didn’t change the fact that it hurt like a son of a bitch. Not that it didn’t feel impossible to overcome. Leave it to his meddling siblings to have to bring it up, even on vacation. It was time for afternoon tea, so he left and walked towards the parlor where his sisters and mother were setting up.

He sat himself and took the milk bottle and poured it into his teacup. The tea was distributed with little sandwiches and sweets. This little ritual among his family that he’d done so often felt alien the first day back, but had easily seemed like yesterday. And then he’d return to America and this would all become another memory…

“So,” his twin piped up, “Who’s this mysterious woman you’ve called every day that you’ve been here?”

“Mystery woman?” their mother echoed.

“There is no mystery woman.” He flatly denied.

“Riiiight.” All three siblings sarcastically replied in unison.

Oh for the love of God.

“If you busybodies must know, I’ve been calling my assistant back at the office.” The silence that followed instructed him to continue. “I’m just keeping on top of things with her training.”

“Oh you’re such a liar.” The twin smirked and sipped her tea. “Why else would have you her tell you what she loves about herself? Are you fooling around with her?”

Try as he might, he really couldn’t ever pull a fast one on her. She was too good. “Have you been eavesdropping on me? How unladylike. “

“You see, he’s dodging the question.” She announced to the rest. “This only goes to show that there’s something going on.”

He set the teacup down sharply and set his jaw. “You were always a terrible gossip. But fine, you know what? Yes, I am teaching my assistant about more than just how to work. She suffers from social anxiety and very low self-esteem. She struggles to go a whole day without stuttering or blushing or even trembling when under any kind of pressure.” His hand clenched and unclenched. “And if her overbearing, overprotective father hadn’t coddled and sequestered her away for most of her life, she’d be ready to step in as the next CEO.”

“The next CEO?” his mother echoed. “She’s your boss’s daughter?”

He gave a firm nod. “She’s bloody brilliant, so much in fact that she even made her own puzzle adventure computer game on an indie gamer site that I had the pleasure of playing and unlocking the secret ending to.” Despite not liking the actual route of the secret ending, it was still worth bragging about. 

“You were always a sucker for a puzzle.” His eldest sister chirped. “I bet you stayed up all night playing and even called in sick.”

“I did.” He glared sharply, “And it was worth it. Ruminate was unlike any other game I have ever played.”

“Does she know that?” his mother asked calmly, with a knowledgeable smile.

“I did give it a 10 star rating.” He confessed. “Little good it’ll do against all the negative strikes it received, following a well influential negative review. I unfortunately am acquainted with the pompous idiot who started that.” His finger traced the rim of his teacup.

All his female family members regarded him with keen scrutiny. As the only son, and now the last male Jones family member, he’d always been precious to them all in different ways. They all saw things in the way he held himself, presented himself, spoke…he had tells he wasn’t aware of. And his tell was very clear: he was hiding how he was truly feeling.

“Everthechivalrousone.” His little sister said lightly, holding up her teacup. “Henevercouldresistadamsel.”

His cheek twitched at the remark. His sisters knew him too well. He could never stop himself if there was a lady who struggled with a bag, a door, or another man’s unwanted advances. 

“So, what’s she like?” the middle sister asked. “Tall, dark hair, large…” she held her hands out in front of her chest. And laughed when their mother shot her a disapproving glance.

The laughter ended when Charles responded with a ‘No.’ they all looked at him with wide eyes.

Charles brought his hand to his chin and held it there a moment. He breathed in deeply before speaking once more. “Brunette….In fact she’s quite tiny, only comes up to my shoulder. She was born premature and developed asthma. Recently she cut her hand on a shard of glass, and I had to take her to be seen at the clinic where her brother is a doctor. He hates my guts by the way.”

“YOU took someone to see a doctor?” they cried.

He forced a smile and nodded, all too aware that his trypanophobia was well documented in his childhood. He could only imagine what they were thinking. The Jones women were known for their flights of fancy when emotionally swept up in something new.

“Oh you really are something, aren’t you?” the matriarch replied. “And the name of this charming lady?”

“Samara Young.” He answered.

“Ah, appropriate.” She gleamed. “Do you know what Samara means?”

He shook his head.

“Protected by God.”

…………………………….

After that eventful afternoon tea, Charles took refuge in his room once more. Even though he knew he wasn’t safe from the eavesdroppers and gossip mongers that his siblings were. He figured he had given them enough to chew on for a while now and was deserving of some privacy. He pulled out his phone and flicked his thumb over the contact list. Today would be the last call, pity; he had grown rather fond of the little interactions across such a distance.

“Morning, Charles.” She answered, on the first ring. She sounded happy, almost downright perky. It was still morning after all; she’d probably just had her first cup of coffee.

“And how are we doing this fine morning?” he asked, leaning back on his pillows.

“Oh I’m alright.” She answered. He heard clanking and the shifting of porcelain. She must be in the Break Room, fixing another fresh pot of brew. “Everybody’s excited it’s Friday of course. I’m sure you are too, you’ll be coming back on Sunday, right?”

“Keeping tabs on me Bunty?” he teased.

“Isn’t it more like the other way around?” she asked, stirring sugar into a newly acquired mug. She turned to Lucy, who had entered. “Lucy, this mug is adorable, I love it.”

“I’m so glad!” the redhead chirped. “Seeing as you’ve been promoted, a new mug was in order.” She pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and drank. Then her head perked up as her name was called. “Well, got to go.”  
Charles overheard the conversation. A new mug eh? He could’ve given her one of those, but had instead gone with flowers. Flowers he had secretly hoped she would’ve kept on her desk, but had instead taken home. Maybe a new bouquet was in order…..

“…it’s this really lovely color with gold trimming.” She was saying. “She picked it up at an estate sale.”

“How very kind of her.” He mused. “I Suppose the Break Room is as good as any, are you ready to-wait,” he paused, “Is that gold metallic looking?” he asked.

She had placed it in the microwave and pressed Beverage, then turned her back away from the machine. “I think so. It-“

“Don’t put it the micro-“he began, and then heard a sharp pop and a hiss, as Sam let out a startled gasp. 

“The microwave!” she cried, letting out a little yelp. “It’s smoking!”

“Get it out Samara, it’s not safe.” He ordered, gripping his phone.

He heard an electronic buzz and more pops, Sam’s voice wavering with startled cries and coughs. She had managed to press the OPEN button, and a high pitch shrill emitted from the heating device. She coughed more, waving a hand around to clear the smoke.

“Samara!” he called over the noise. He imagined thick black smoke pouring from the damaged machine. 

“The sprinkler.” He heard her whisper, then feet pounding as she ran into the main floor and yelled “Tents!” Code for protecting the computers, just as the sprinkler system activated. Everyone immediately started pulling out plastic sheeting that was stored in every desk, in the same side drawer, just for this occasion. 

“Samara!” he called again. “Are you alright?”

She gasped as cold water gushed over her. “Oh no! Your laptop!” she cried, and began running towards his office.

“Listen to me, leave it.” He ordered, sitting upright and heart pounding. “Get out Samara, now!”

“Just a minute!” she yelled back. Then the telltale shove of the wooden door cracking against the wall rang in his ears. She dropped the phone and immediately went to protecting the hardware, all the while ignoring the pleas of her boss, who was helpless to the chaos. He heard the fire alarm blaring in the background and various voices shouting out indiscriminately. 

“Bunty!” he shouted, rising up off his bed and shoving his hair away from his face.

“it…k…Char..es…..ts…cov…ed.” was her broken out reply, static filling in at every other syllable. 

“Get your ass out of there.” He ordered sternly, race pulsing.

He heard pounding as if she was slapping on the door itself. “It…stuc…I…ant…open…”

God no, it couldn’t be. His door jamming at a time like this? He heard her pounding and shouting for help, followed by a few coughs. His heart gripped in icy fear for her safety. Even if he was in the office, it would still be inconvenient at best. Instead, he was half a world away and in no position to do a damn thing but overhear this chaotic scene.

“Get to the window!” he shouted. “Can you hear me? Samara Jones, the window!”

Her words were garbled, the water damaging the phone reception. And then the line went dead. He choked on the silence for a second, and then heard the dial tone and his stomach sank. With shaking hands, he began opening up his contact list again and dialing another number.

He was surprised the man even answered, but nonetheless glad for it.

“Jones? Have you any idea what’s going on right-“

“Your daughter is in danger.” He said flatly, getting his attention. “She’s trapped in my office. Door is jammed.” He barely finished the words before he heard heavy footfall and a war-like cry as the man ordered others out of his way. Charles hung along for the ride, imagining the terror of not only an office fire, but the sight of Samuel Young flying headlong against the crowd. Even being on the first floor, there was still to be a crowd of bodies.

Whump!   
Whump!   
Whump!

Samuel threw his body against the door with all his might. The wood cracked at first and then gave way into a small hole that Samuel worked on until it was too weak to stand against him and he plowed through.

“Dad!?” he heard Samara squeak and then “humph” as she was tossed over his shoulder. “Daaaaaad!” she cried in a long drawn out protest, as her voice echoed through the halls. It sounded terrible; the alarm, the sprinkler, the shouting, the coughs…..

“Answer me!” he begged, wanting confirmation that the two were alright. The familiar firetruck siren was blaring, words were barely audible. 

“Char-les” Came a breathless reply. She must’ve either taken the phone from her father or he had given it to her. “I’m-“ the reception was again cut off with static and garbled sounds. 

“Bunty.” He all but whispered, dropping to his knees and clutching the footboard for support. His mother and sisters had all heard the commotion and came running, he hadn’t acknowledged a single one of them the whole time. Until now, as there was only silence emitting from the phone.

“Charles, son, what happened?” his mother cried, kneeling down and touching his shoulder. He was pale-the sickly kind of pale-and covered in cold sweat. She could literally see his heart pounding from under his shirt. “Look at me.” She ordered, pulling his face to meet hers.

“F-f-fire.” He stuttered in shock. “Fire, at the office.” 

His sisters gasped.

The hand holding his phone shook, knuckles white like ivory.

“I’m sure they’ll be alright.” She said steadily, slowly. “You told me it’s the first floor. It’s easy to get out.”

“She was trapped, in my office.” His voice was weak and stoic. “The door…”

“Come, up to your feet. No son of mine is going to lay defeated on the floor.” She turned to her daughters, “Tea. Now.” She ordered, sending them off. Parting his hair; she took in his terrified visage. The boy looked like he had seen his own death.

“Charles Jones, on your feet.” She ordered, pulling him upwards. She held him steady as she led him out of his old bedroom and down to the living room once more. She sat him on the couch, to which he sank in like a Jell-O mold. The phone still gripped in his hand, he was looking at it with hope. Hope of a call from someone to reassure him that all was well.

A heavily spiked mug of tea was placed in his other hand, the heat barely registering. His hands still shook. His pupils dilated with fear.

The sisters whispered among each other, just a room away. Earlier he had gushed about the lovely little lady, and now here he was, a shell-shocked man who mulled over whether or not she was alive.

“He doesn’t know what he said, does he?”

“I don’t think so, probably just a slip of the tongue.”

“Helooksreadytofaint orthrowup. Maybeboth.”

Their mother sat with him, managing to coax the phone out of his hand so that he could drink and calm down. She patted his knee and let him mumble what words he could manage. “Son, I know it all sounded so terrifying. It probably was not as bad as it sounds. But you know these things do take time, it could be hours before any of them are released from custody or observation. Do not beat yourself up over this.”

He turned his head slowly. Tears threatened to spill from his baby blue eyes. “What if something happened to her? How could I deal with myself, knowing she could’ve died in my very office?”

“None of this was your fault, and you can’t shoulder this.”

He leaned his head back. “I should’ve been there.”

“Oh? On your vacation?” she crowed. “As if you leaving somehow put her in jeopardy? How long have you been planning this visit son? Months.” She answered for him. “This would’ve happened regardless.”

They debated well over an hour. She had given him hot totties to ease his nerves, but his mind was still sharp and mouth still mulling over ‘what ifs’ as he had nervously tapped a foot to the floor, paced back and forth, frantically dialing numbers to no avail. He’d not seek rest until he knew Samara was safe. All the while, the sisters had debated and reached a conclusion. One went upstairs and began repacking his suitcase while another grabbed his briefcase and made sure he had all his documents and passport. The third set about making calls to the nearest airport.

All at once, the trio entered the living room and set his bags by his feet. He looked up in slow recognition. He didn’t have to say anything. He unhurriedly got to his feet and set the mug down. He had finally stopped shaking, but his phone never rang.

“It’s been wonderful to have you for this short time,” his mother said, enveloping him in a hug. “But I know you, and you’ll not be at ease until you see them for yourself. There’s no point in trying to convince us to not let you take a day and return.”

“……”

“You’ve made a new life there; it’s your home too.” She said, wiping away a tear that slipped past her lashes. “Llandudno made you, but America has you now. And you’re needed there.”

His shoulders loosened, like a heavy yoke had been lifted. He secretly feared his family would feel betrayed by his move; that once he came home for a visit they’d convince him to stay. But he had outgrown the little seaside town in the northern region, Wales was just another country of heritage for him. He’d always return, he just couldn’t stay.

“Now off with you.” His mother insisted, ending the hug and pushing him into the arms of his sisters. “They’ve made arrangements for you and you’ll have little time to rest.” The three led him out of the house and piled into the car with him, much to his surprise.

His elder sister took the wheel, he rode shotgun. His twin held out her phone with a GPS map and they headed off towards Anglesey Airport, which was a mere 30 miles away. She had listed off his flight path, telling him he had to make to a layover to Cardiff, which would take him to New York, and have another layover that would take him LA.  
“It’s the best I could do on short notice. And I hope you don’t mind it being Coach either.” He wasn’t entirely shocked at her proficiency; she was able to get the impossible done at times. 

“Remember,” his fast talking little sister added, “You’llbefightingagainstallthedifferenttimezones. Whatwillfeellikethenexttwentyfourhoursofyourlifewillonlybeanafternoonforher. Ifyoudon’tmissaflightorgetdelayedyoushouldgetbackbySaturdaymorning, WestCoasttime.”

Thank god he’d learn how to translate her long ago, or else that would’ve flown over his head. He took in a moment to appreciate his little army, always united-whether it was against him or with him-and he couldn’t have been happier to have them.

“So,” the driver piped up, “Are we going to address the elephant in the car?” She glanced at her brother. “You said something earlier, when you were on the phone with her. Do you know what it was?”

“I said a lot of things,” he answered vaguely, not knowing where she was going with this. 

“Denial.” His twin sang in a merry tune.

“You said her name is Young, right?”

He nodded. Then he swept his hair back from his eye.

“You called her Jones. Little bro. Samara Jones.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” He immediately retorted.

“Denial.” Again in the singsong tune. Their little sister nudged her with her elbow. She looked at the siblings up in the front seat and just smiled.

“Did I?” he asked, confused.

All three nodded their heads.

They pulled up to the airport and stopped right in front of the pick-up and drop-off zone. “Look, you’ve got all night and day to figure out your feelings, so you better come to conclusion by the time you see her.” Big sis sternly pointed. Then she pulled him into a hug. The other two had already climbed out of the backseat and opened the trunk to get his luggage. They came around to each hug him and hand over one last bit of advice.

He didn’t have time left to stand and watch their departure; he had a plane to catch. They all waved and drove off with a squeal of tires, promising they’d get his rental car returned in time. He sped through the terminal and made it to the docking station with only minutes to spare. Everything had already been arranged by his twin sister, so it was already logged into the computer when he showed his ID and original flight ticket.

And thus began the long journey back home…..  
……………………

Following the fire, the entire day had been thrown into chaos for everyone working at Young Technology. The 24 carat gold trim on the mug innocently given and accidently placed in the microwave had caused the spark and set off the sprinkler system, which in turn, had halted all production and caused more damage to the interior to the office cubicles and some equipment. 

Samara had never felt so small and embarrassed in all her life until now, when her frantic father had literally smashed through the door to Charles’ office like the Hulk and threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the building. He hadn’t set her down until the fire trucks and paramedics came, and then charged at the first paramedics he saw.

The smoke damage was minimal, but there still had been smoke. She had been right in front of the microwave as it smoked and sparked so naturally it triggered her to cough. The smell was awful. Her father sat her on a gurney and to her surprise, Link was there.

A little shaken at seeing his friend at the scene of a fire, he let out a breath of relief that she was unharmed, but put the oxygen mask on her anyway and started reading her vitals.

“I can’t believe that Welsh bastard actually called me.” Samuel said in disbelief as he watched his daughter’s friend tend to her. “He knew exactly what was going on.”

Sam pushed the mask away, and Link’s hands as he tried to set it back in place. “I was on the phone with him Dad, he heard everything. When my phone disconnected he called you.” She coughed once. “Of all things, I’d think you’d be grateful.” She snapped, putting the mask back over her mouth and nose. She looked at her wet phone in dismay. How scared he had sounded, she thought, recalling that frantic tone in his voice. She wished she could call him right back, but her phone needed to dry in a bag of rice for several hours at least, a day or more if necessary. 

Her father insisted she be taken to the hospital and placed in observation. Samara knew it best to not argue right then and there, but there was no way in hell she was staying overnight. Link got her in the back of the ambulance, but told Mr. Young that he’d have to wait behind. Reluctantly, her father acquiesced and pulled out his phone to make a call. 

Alone at last, Sam pulled the mask off again. Link let out a little laugh as he gathered his supplies. “I’d keep that on, just until your doc says you’re fine.” He said softly. “Now I know you’re not gonna like this, but I need some bloodwork.”

“God, do we have to?” she cried, “I’m fine!”

“Yes, I have to. Don’t make me tie you down in order to do so either. You were right in front of a smoking microwave, they’re gonna want blood samples Sam.” He said sternly. “Please let me do my job.”

She huffed and stuck out her arm with indignation, allowing Lincoln Hudson, EMT, to carefully extract blood and get her vitals charted. All she could think about was that day Marshall collapsed and he and his partner Todd had come running up the stairway, right after Charles had performed CPR. They acted with military precision, getting him strapped to the backboard and carefully down the stairs. He must’ve sat with him like this, asking his general health questions and getting an IV started for fluids. This wasn’t her first ambulance ride. Far too many asthma attacks in her youth had her in the back of these more often than the family car at times. They all looked the same, compartments with supplies and the same labels for the same purposes. It took her a moment to realize Link was speaking to her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’m just kinda numb to all this.”

He placed one of his large hands on top of her little one. “Don’t worry; all your vitals look good. I doubt they’ll have a reason to keep you for any tests. Good thing you were already on the phone with your boss.”

“Yeah.” She wearily agreed. 

“Your dad sounded surprised about it though. I mean, he works there too….” He began trailing off.

“He’s on vacation, Link.” She answered. “He calls once a day to check on things.”

“Oh?” Link said, not sure what he should say. “I guess that’s a good thing. Dude looks like he really needs to relax though.” Sam shot him a look. “What? He looked really tense when we met. Polite; but tense.”

She rolled her eyes as he struggled for something to say and failed miserably. They hadn’t been alone with each other since that night he nearly kissed her and then flat out said ‘I don’t find you attractive’, even though he had apologized and they agreed that they were more like family. The words still resonated deep down. Luckily, the hospital came into view and he went back into work mode and got the gurney out of the vehicle.

It did not surprise her at all that her father was already pulling into the parking lot. He was waiting for her in the ER waiting room and by her side as the doctor came in to examine her. Samuel was relieved but underwhelmed when the doctor said there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. “Are you sure you don’t need to run any tests? She was right in the thick of it.”

“Dad, I got out of there fast, I’m ok.” She sighed, just wanting to be out of there and home already. 

“And you were quite lucky.” The doctor added. “Considering your history of asthma, any smoke inhalation could’ve been devastating. I’ll see what your blood test result will say and we’ll go on from there.”

Once alone, Sam turned to her father. “Dad, can I use your phone? I’d like to give Charles a call and let him know we’re ok.” She put on the puppy eyes that she knew he could never say no to and watched him wriggle. Just as he was relenting though, it rang and he turned to answer it. She sighed and flopped back against her skinny hospital grade pillow.

It was a long hour, even made longer when her brother showed up in a flurry of white coat and personality. Being a doctor, he could converse with the other members of staff to get the information he wanted. Then he and their father went back and forth, like she wasn’t even there. Typical. But she didn’t have anyone to blame but herself; she was the one who put the darn mug in the machine, even as Charles tried warning her in time.

When she had her release forms in hand, once again she was guided through the halls by her overbearing guardians and shuffled into her fathers’ car. Jay had his own and promised to meet later for dinner and headed off in the opposite direction, thankfully. But her father’s announcement of him taking her to back to the family home had finally pushed her over the edge.

“No!” she screamed in frustration. “I am NOT going back with you. If you won’t take me back to my apartment then I’ll get a cab.” She stated, pulling her seatbelt off. “All you’ve done today is treat me like a child when I have been fine! I got away from the smoke Dad, ok? My only mistake was trying to protect Charles’ computer from damage. Otherwise I would’ve evacuated like everyone else.”

“But pumpkin….”

“Don’t ‘pumpkin’ me. I’m not in the mood. I am an adult and you need to see that.” She glared at him with stern, unwavering eyes. “Now, are you taking me back to my apartment or not?”

She could just imagine Charles smiling at her with the same pride as he did when she refused to give him her journal. She felt torn between being proud for standing up to herself and guilty for upsetting her father. Perhaps all those Self-Love exercises had really helped boost her confidence. With a nod, Samuel Young agreed to take his daughter back to her home, and the ride was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet.

But it was finally quiet at last.

She got home weary, emotionally exhausted, and dropped onto her couch without fanfare. Bowser curled up with her and tried his best to comfort her with little kisses and gentle pawing. She put her arm around him and snuggled. She grabbed the remote and flicked on the tv, turning it to a news channel. A small mention was made about the incident, but seeing as it was nothing huge in the way of damages or death; it was just a blip, nothing more. She groaned and turned it off. The day was so humiliating. She was more exhausted from the uncomfortable ambulance ride, the hospital stay, and the uncomfortable ride home than if it had just been a normal Friday. Would she even have the strength to Raid tonight?

With her phone sitting in a Ziploc bag of rice, she couldn’t text or call anybody. Everyone that would be involved tonight was still at work, that is except for Olivia. She jumped over to her PC and immediately brought up her social media page and its messenger app. Olivia always had her phone on her, for it to respond verbally to people in case Edgar wasn’t able to sign for her. With a flurry of fast fingers, Samara poured out today’s dramatic events for Olivia to send en masse to their friends. 

………………………..

It had been the longest day of Charles life. He’d been chasing the sun with every flight, every layover, and every hour seemed twice as long. He’d had the briefest of catnaps during the uninterrupted flight from Cardiff to NY International, but the sleep was haunted with visions of fire. He’d ordered a strong coffee and whisky and remained on edge until touchdown.

Finally back at LAX, he retrieved his car from the overnight parking lot and settled into the comfortable leather seat. Oh how he had missed his little black beauty. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, checked the mirrors and then backed out and hit the main street out. Knowing today was Saturday, the office wouldn’t be open, but he had to see how bad the damage was for himself. A small article had managed to grace the local news department website but it was quickly pushed back to make way for other exciting news that actually involved injury and heavy damage. There had been no mention of casualties, but that did not settle his unease by much.

He pulled up into the familiar parking lot, and saw Caution tape wrapped around some of the poles and trees by the entrance. There was a sign on the door with a message saying that due to fire the office would be temporarily closed. Even though he had a key, it was best to not let his curiosity override his common sense; he could end up contaminating evidence not yet collected by investigators by traipsing through.

The outside looked fine, no blackened scorch marks to his relief. Whatever had happened had been contained to the inside. He’d have to contact Mr. Young soon for details pertaining, but now all he could think of was seeing Samara. He’d had no luck in reaching her despite making a call every hour. That was what worried him the most.  
He slipped back into his car and yawned, loudly. “No.” he told himself. “Not yet.” He turned on the radio, turning it to a popular chart station, so something loud and snappy would keep him focused on the road. He recognized the voice instantly, that of Brian Molko, lead singer of Placebo. His distinct nasal, high pitch vocal was unmistakable to any kid of the United Kingdom listening to the grunge rock of the 90’s.

It doesn’t hurt me  
Do you want to feel how it feels?  
Do you want to know, know that it doesn’t hurt me?  
Do you want to hear about how the deal I’m making?  
You, it’s you and me

And if I only could  
I’d make a deal with God  
And get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road  
Be running up that hill  
Be running up that building

Low and behold, that building suddenly came into view.

He pulled into the slot reserved for visitors and clamored out of his car with a lack of grace, and leapt up the stairway two steps at a time. He gripped the guardrail like it was a lifeline the whole time. Once he reached her door he was panting like an exhausted cheetah, but still formed a fist and pounded on the door with the side of his palm.  
“Samara!” he called out, not caring if he woke the entire occupancy. 

He heard stumbling and fumbling and the excited yips of Bowser. The door swung open and there she was, dressed in oversized pajamas, hair in two little pigtails underneath a pair of gaming headphones, eyes wide as saucers behind her black frame glasses. What a welcome sight.

“Charles?!?” she called out in surprise, hand flying to her mouth to contain herself. For a second, neither of them spoke, their eyes locked onto each other. She’d never seen him in such a state. His hair was unbrushed and wild. His loose fitting shirt actually had sweat stains in the pits. He looked like he hadn’t seen sleep in days, and for once, he looked out of breath.

He took a step and wavered, grabbing the frame of the doorway for support. His knees buckled and the adrenaline that had fueled him finally been depleted. She immediately reached out to help him inside her apartment. Though she was much smaller, she was able to give him enough support for him to drag his weary legs and lean against her kitchen counter. She ran to her sink and filled a glass with tap water and handed it to him. Bowser sat by his feet.

Gladly, he swallowed it in one draught.

“Charles…” she just trailed off, not even knowing what to say.

“Ever since…the phone call…” he took a breath, “I’ve been racing all the way back here.”

She bit her lip, racked with guilt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He laughed. “I made the choice. I had to see you.” He reached up and touched her cheek gingerly. “Not being able to reach you, I thought the worst.”  
“I’m sorry. My phone…” she hooked her thumb over to the table where he saw it resting in a bag of uncooked rice. “But this whole thing was my fault. If only I had paid more attention-“

“Samara, it could’ve happened to anyone, at any time.” His hand left her cheek, but rested upon her shoulder like he had done on their date. “I did it once, that’s how I knew about the gold trimming.”

“I feel like an idiot.” She sniffed, voice cracking. “I put everyone in danger with that oversight.” A tear slipped from her eye. He brought his hand up and gently caught it. 

“You know what else I heard?” he replied softly. “I also heard a brave woman running through the office making sure everyone protected their computers and she took charge like a boss.”

She gave a half smile and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I was only fixing the problem I created. I still ended up putting myself in harms’ way by not thinking.” She looked up at him. “I am so sorry for the terror I must’ve caused, for you to cut your trip short and rush all the way back here-“

“Calm down.” He said, pulling her into a hug. He stroked her back as she started crying onto his chest. Even though his body was beginning to tremble from fatigue, he held her. This feeling welling up inside him was soon overflowing; the warmth starting in his chest had spread throughout his whole entire body. It had been worth it, this excruciating trek back to the States. But he could only fake it for so long, and his knees buckled again. Bowser instantly backed up.

He braced himself with her countertop and reaching out to plant a hand on the face of her fridge. He smiled weakly as he soon slipped and ended up kneeling on one knee, panting hard. Sam put herself under his arm and helped him stand, then slowly walked him to her couch. Once seated, he let out an exhausted sigh and his whole body loosened. There was nothing rigid and formal and poised about him right now. Little furbaby jumped up and nestled at his side.

She had taken off the headphones that slipped down to her neck and tossed them on her coffee table and retrieved a throw blanket to cover him with. He was breathing in slow, steady breaths, eyes closed, and finally looking content since arriving on her doorstep. She couldn’t help but smile as she gently covered him with the blanket. Her hands gently pushed hair aside and removed his glasses, only for one hand to reach up and grasp hold of her firmly.

The next thing she knew, she was in his lap, his other hand placed at the small of her back. “Charles!” she exclaimed. He pressed her to him, hugging her tightly but not so much that she couldn’t breathe. Not that she didn’t like the close contact, but she was unsure what to do next. His arms wrapped around her like she was a teddy bear, he nuzzled against her chest.

“Please, stay.” He whispered softly.

Sam felt herself melt at the request. “Ok.” She acquiesced. “On the condition that you’ll let me go so I can comfortable.”

The look he gave her was pitiful, like that of a child not wanting to let go of a toy even for a single moment. She felt a mixture of enchantment and amusement. “It’ll only be a second, I promise.” She said, hand on his chest. He placed his hand on top of hers and nodded. He let the hand slip as she stood up and stretched, and he flung the blanket off his lap. He patted his lap, indicating for her to sit. She slipped into the offered spot with ease, her tiny frame fitting nicely into the dip between his legs. He pulled the blanket back over the both of them and wrapped his arm around her waist, under the blanket. She nestled her head against his shoulder and breathed in his scent. No words were needed, just slow steady breaths and calming heartbeats. It didn’t take long for her to realize he had fallen asleep. Shame, her phone being out of commission for the moment, she’d love to get a picture of him. 

Given that she had also had a restless night, she soon found herself dozing off in the arms of the man she wanted more than anyone in the world, but would take this opportunity to share with him. She wasn’t sure what would happen when he woke up, or when the office was ready for them to come back to work and how things might be different, but for now, this was fine. This was enough.


	4. Invited to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted Charles confesses his feelings to Sam, shortly before her parents arrive to her apartment. After hearing that Charles played an important role in helping Sam escape the office fire, her mother insists he joins them for dinner.

After a restful nap, Charles woke and found his arms still wrapped around Samara, her head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. It was blissful, seeing this little angel again and having this serene moment. He stirred her gently, watching her awaken like a Disney Princess. Those doe eyes of hers glanced shyly at him, pulling at his heartstrings. And to even think that he’d never seen those eyes again…..it was too much. He tightened his hold, pressing her to him in an embrace that he never wanted to end.

“I’ve had time to think about what you said to me two weeks ago.” He began, stroking her hair softly. “When you were the one brave enough to speak your mind and say how you truly feel. I was about to take the cowards way out and reinforce our roles as employer and employee when you shut me down.”

Sam said nothing, though it confirmed what she had suspected.

“I didn’t want to lead you on, for you to fall for me and expect something that I couldn’t give you. But,” he paused, pulling her off him so that they see each other face-to-face. “It looks like I’m the one who fell. I fell so hard that it took me a while to realize just what it was that I was feeling again.”

She nervously bit her lip. He reached up and brushed his thumb over it gingerly. “Every day that I was gone, no matter how happy I was to see my family, to be at my childhood home, the thing I looked forward to the most was our phone call, so I could hear your voice.”

She caught her breath, eyes wide at the admission.

“Every time I called you, I would lie on my bed and it was as if I was a teenager once more. Listening to you interacting with everyone and be so proficient without me made me so proud…and yet…I was dismayed for missing it.”

She pressed her lips to his thumb, watching his eyes. Or just the one that wasn’t covered by hair. She carefully flicked that aside and saw his lips curve upwards. Oh how she had longed to touch his hair like this, in its natural state, untamed and childish. Soft and beautiful.

“The thought of losing you….” He started to choke up. “I was a wreck Samara. My family pulled me off the floor and set me straight, then pushed me out the door so I could be here as soon as possible.”

“I didn’t have your number, or I would’ve called you from the hospital.” She said. “Dad’s phone kept ringing off the hook the whole time; he didn’t have time to let me have it for a single minute. He had to call my mom, my brother, and several clients and the insurance company.” Her eyes lowered. “And then I yelled at him for treating me like a child so we drove home in silence.”

Charles smiled. “That’s my Bunty.” He said proudly. He cupped her jaw and drew her closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “That is, if you still feel the same way about me.” He applied a little pressure, enticing her to response. Their first kiss tender and innocent. When they stopped for a breath, he saw her unmistakable blush, unbeknownst that he was doing the same.

She nodded. “I still do. You’re a little hard to resist.”

He smiled wickedly. “Oh am I?” he teased. They shared a laugh. The moment was brief however; as there was a heavy knock on her door. Bowser immediately jumped up and did his happy yippy dance.

“Aren’t we popular today?” he joked as she gasped and realized who it was behind there and what time it was. And she was still in pajamas! She jumped off his lap and yelled “Just a minute!” then she turned to him and whispered heavily “It’s my parents!”

“Get to your room and throw something on, I’ll distract them.” He said, all serious and focused at the task at hand. He picked his glasses up from the coffee table and smoothed back his hair and then marched up to the door.

The look of utter shock was unmistakable on both their faces, humorous if not for the severity of the situation. “Jones!” her father snarled a moment later, “What are you-“

“Charles!” her mother proclaimed, cutting off her husband’s rant. “This is unexpected. I heard you were still in Wales.” He stepped back and allowed them entry, offering to take her coat.

“I cut the vacation short by a day and took the next available flight back. I had the feeling I’d be needed due to the situation.” He replied, laying her coat across the back of a kitchen chair.

“Where’s Sam?” Mr. Young demanded.

“Trying on another outfit.” Charles easily lied, “She asked my opinion on what she should wear for dinner tonight.” 

“Oh, well I should probably help her then.” Her mother said and sauntered down the hall towards the bedroom. She gently knocked on the door of her daughter’s bedroom. A moment later she disappeared inside. Once alone, Samuel shot Charles a death inducing glare.

“Lot of nerve you have, showing up at my daughter’s home like this.”

“Like this?” Charles repeated, and shrugged, hands in his pockets. “This is just on my way home. After leaving the airport I swung by the office to see for myself, and I figured a little visit wouldn’t hurt, since we haven’t been able to reach each other since yesterday.”

Samuel weighed the story with guarded suspicion. “And my daughter just so happened to ask you what she should wear to dinner then?”

“She was dressed far too casually.” Charles stated. “I suggested something slightly more formal.” Funny how even the truth could be twisted into a white lie when necessary.

A moment later the ladies emerged from her bedroom, Samara’s mother presenting her proudly in another one of her handed down dresses that her daughter had never worn before: a floral summer dress and sandals. Her hair had been pulled into her signature little bun with a flower pinned to it. She looked radiant. She was flushed red and slightly quivering.

“I’ve been informed that it was you Charles,” her mother smiled with pearly teeth, “that had helped Samuel find her yesterday. I can’t thank you enough.”

Charles stuck his chest out a little with pride. “It was the least I could do.”

“You must join us for dinner.” She said, matter-of-factly. At the same time, Samuel looked ready to combust and Samara smiled brightly.

Charles chuckled. “Only since you insist.”

“Honey,” Samuel gritted through pressed teeth. “Remember we have a reservation. They may not be able to add on at last minute.” 

She looked at him and simply said “Then we’ll find another restaurant if they cannot perform such a simple task.” She pulled out her hone and brought up the number. She set the phone to her ear and in no time at all, the party was switched from five to six. With a victorious smirk, she placed the phone back in her purse. “All done.”

“Six?” Charles asked. “Who will be joining us?”

“My brother and his girlfriend.” Samara answered in a tiny voice, knowing full well dinner was going to become a drama.

Charles’s face showed no disdain in anyway. “Wonderful.” He chirped merrily. “The whole family.”

“Well then, if that’s all, we should be going now.” Mr. Young announced. “I think you’ll have time to run home and change into something suitable…”

“What he’s wearing is fine dear.” His wife remarked dryly. 

Charles tugged on his shirt, revealing just a glimpse of his chest. “Oh no, he’s absolutely right, I’ve been wearing this well over a day-according to all the different time zones I crossed. Luckily my luggage is still packed and in my trunk down below.”

“You can bring it up here.” Samara said before either parent could voice their opinion of what he could do with it. “You can change in my room, it’s no big deal.”

Samuel Young looked ready to explode, but his wife had a hand on his arm. “Excellent idea, it’ll save you from making such a drive. You do know where we’re eating at right?”

He gave a nod. “I’ve been there a few times.”

“Wonderful, we’ll meet you there.” She stated, gripping her husband’s arm and forcing him to walk away. The man began sputtering his disapproval to no avail. “Come on Sam, it’s just a quick wardrobe change.” She cooed, leading him out of the door.

Charles and Samara stood in awkward silence for a moment, listening to the conversation in the hall as they left. More like, a one sided argument that Mr. Young was sorely losing. He shot a smile her way. “You did well back there.” He commended.

“You did too.” She said, blushing. One hand went to grip her other arm and she pointed her toes inward. “Sorry about my dad.”

He stepped over to her and removed her hand off her arm before she left a mark. “Stand up straight Bunty,” he ordered like they were back in the office. “I suspect your father and brother are going to put me through the ringer tonight, so I need you standing tall. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I should go get that luggage now.” He said and slipped away before she could reach up and touch him.

He skipped down the steps and was not surprised that Mr. Young was standing at his distinguished black car. Mrs. Young looked exasperated by her husband’s overprotective nature. Charles acted nonchalant, walking around to his trunk. “Thank you for guarding the car, though I doubt anyone here would try and steal it.”

Samuel had his arms crossed, his jaw set firmly.

“Let’s go!” Mrs. Young called from her vehicle, parked two spaces away. 

“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” Charles smirked, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He couldn’t resist poking the bear. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Back in Samara’s apartment, she nervously led him down the hall towards her bedroom, Bowser following. This was not how she ever expected Charles to be introduced to the place, but she was the one who suggested it. “I’d rather take the bathroom.’ Charles said, but then seeing its small size thought better of it. He set his suitcase upon her bed and glanced around the room. Samara had a full size mirror in here, so he’d have a better view of himself. Seeing as it was a fixture of the apartment and not a personal mirror, he wasn’t surprise that a portion of it was covered by a pile of laundry that Bowser pawed at and flopped into it to sleep.

He shook his head. A girl like her, hating her body? He’d soon change that.

He slipped into his button down shirt and vest, slacks and jacket, dressing as he would for work. Everything all smooth and in place, except his hair. He had not packed his hair gel because he didn’t plan on using it at home (not to mention all his sisters teased him whenever he used it) so he had this mix of a well-polished gentleman from the neck down. He emerged from her room and took her breath away regardless. She put a hand to her chest as if it would ease her thumping heart. “You’re gorgeous.” She let slip, and then flushed bright red.

Hearing her say that, seeing how she reacted, made the back of his neck itch and cheeks warm up. “Ah, thank you.” He said nervously. It’s not like it was news to him, but somehow hearing it in that breathless whisper of honesty made it all the more real. “I wanted to tell you that you looked absolutely radiant, but your father already was reaching his boiling point.”

“He’s going to be at boiling all night.” She added. “I thought with what happened yesterday that he’d start treating you better.”

Charles offered his arm and she looped hers through it. “Old habits.” He answered as she locked up. He offered his arm again and they walked down the stairs together and all the way to his car, where he opened the door for her and closed it after she was seated. When he slipped into his seat and pushed his glasses back up his nose, she asked him “Are you always going to do that when we ride together?”

He chuckled and shifted into reverse, then into drive. “What’s the matter dearie? Too gentlemanly for you?” He leaned over a ways and then lowered his voice into a husky tone that sent shivers through her. “There are plenty of other things I do that are not so gentle.” From the corner of his eye he saw her face turn bright red.

They rode in comfortable silence for a few minutes until the strain of an unanswered question loomed overhead. “Charles,” she asked softly. “Are we….a couple?” She started gripping the hem of her dress. 

“A man stumbles into your doorway this morning telling you he has spent the past 24 hours of his life catching every plane available from across the Atlantic and the country to see you as soon as possible, and then confesses that even away on vacation all he could do was think of you and the way you make him feel and you still are unsure?”

“Well…” she fumbled for words. “I wasn’t….it’s not like anyone has ever done that before you know!” she cried out. He placed his right hand over her left one. That familiar large warm hand that was always so reassuring.

“I meant every word I said Samara. I am, by most means, an honest man and would never play with your feelings with such words. Teasing you at work is one thing.”

She traced her thumb over the top of his pale Welsh hand. “So…are you saying…that it’s….love?” She felt him twitch, as if the word had caused a jolt of pain through his body. When she looked at his face she noticed he was entirely too focused on the traffic ahead and set his jaw. He seemed to be struggling with something.

He breathed in slowly, to steady his nerves. “I was once in love…and it wasn’t meant to be. A pain so great it made me flee my homeland and get as far away as I could.” She watched the storm clouds in his eye as he fought for words. “I swore I’d never let another woman get to me like that, and for years, I haven’t.”

Even though he paused, she remained silent.

“I can’t say what I’m feeling. I don’t know what it is. All I know is that I can’t bear the thought of being away from you, and the fear of losing you made me into a madman on a mission.” He swallowed the lump that had built in his throat. “It will take some time before I’m able to share everything, if you can be patient with me.” He pulled the car up the parking lot and set the gear in park, then picked her hand up again. He brought it to his lips and graciously kissed her knuckles. She’d never guessed that a beautiful man such as him would have ever been heartbroken before. Whoever had done that must’ve been truly powerful with wit and charm, in order to snare such a mind and heart of this person who was now unmistakingly afraid to try again.

“But you asked, and I want to be as honest with you as you have always been with me.” His eyes were intense, like a hot blue fire burning straight into her soul. She felt those words more than heard them. He wasn’t promising the world, or a happily ever after, but he was promising patience and his past, and asking her to accept him as he was, not quite whole.

“Now my dear, our first trial: dinner with your family.”


End file.
